


mine and yours

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Don't Touch Lola, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Future Fic, Hugs, POV Phil Coulson, Romance, skoulsonfest2k16redux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7548355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy has a question.</p>
<p>Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k16 Redux - prompt: Where's Lola?</p>
            </blockquote>





	mine and yours

It’s not the Playground, but it’s beginning to look like home.

Perhaps because she has arranged the furniture in the common area more or less like that of the Playground. Coulson is not sure she did it on purpose or it’s a decades-old defense mechanism often seen in people with the kind of past Daisy has.

It almost feels like home, this new place, even with all the security measure - they’re fugitives now, _again_ , Coulson is not sure how to qualify this new layer of outlaw to their status. It feels even more like home in quiet moments like this, with everyone gone to their own quarters after a long mission and Coulson keeping Daisy company on the couch while she has a very late dinner, getting some of her strength back after using her powers.

It almost feels like home because Daisy is too exhausted to feel self-conscious and she gorges on leftover pizza - Coulson did offer to whip up something decent, but she said she couldn’t wait - and finishes the bitter pumpkin juice with apple and milk Elena made especially for her.

“By the way,” she says, after finishing the last slice. “Where’s Lola?”

The question surprises him, not just because of the non-sequitur but because he has not thought about it in months.

“In an ATCU garage, I guess.”

She puts down the drink as well, crossing her legs on the couch to face him.

“What?”

“They requisitioned all of SHIELD’s assets, and Lola was one. Plus the tech inside her… is pretty valuable.”

“Can they do that?”

“I’m a criminal at this point,” Coulson argues. “It’s not like I can knock on their door asking for the keys.”

“But…” Daisy starts, mouth agape. She seems upset by the news. “It’s your dad’s car, they can’t - they _can’t_.”

Coulson shrugs and Daisy’s reaction worsens.

Her eyes shine for a moment and then she lets out a noise like a sob. She looks surprised by it. It only takes a few inches for her to close the distance and suddenly Coulson finds her pressed against his chest, her arms under his and hands locked behind his back, hugging him to suppress her cries.

“It’s okay,” Coulson says, on reflex, into her soft hair, the threads of red from her latest dye job brushing his cheeks. “It’s fine.”

He is about to hold her in return but by the time he decides Daisy is already pulling away. She looks embarrassed by the outburst.

“It’s just… I really love… Lola,” she mutters, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

Coulson lets out a chuckle.

This is the moment when his feelings for Daisy suddenly stop being indefinable for him. They’re very easy to define.

“My father would have liked you,” he tells her, stroking her cheek to wipe the wetness off it.

“That sounds really serious,” Daisy teases him, but obviously (her heart on her sleeve, after all these years, her heart on her sleeve, at least when she’s alone with him) very pleased with his words. “Am I the kind of girl you’d introduce to your parents?”

And it’s just a silly joke but it pains Coulson to think Daisy might believe she is not that kind of girl.

“Definitely. I’d invite you to Sunday dinners,” he tells her.

“And your mom would show me embarrassing pictures of you as a kid?” Daisy asks, getting into it.

Coulson shakes his head, lifts his chin with pride.

“Not embarrassing. I was a cute kid.”

Daisy laughs, openly now. Coulson thinks what a strange picture they make to anyone who would come into the room right now, laughing, Daisy still half-crying, both of them half in each other’s arms.

“You and my dad would geek out about some obscure historical conspiracy while mom and I finish preparing dinner in the kitchen,” he tells her, running with the fantasy.

“That sounds like the nicest,” Daisy says, soft, wistful.

Coulson finds it hard to believe she would wish for something like that, with him, but at the same time it kills him that he can’t even offer her something that small.

“I would if I could,” he tells her. “If my parents were alive. I’d take you meet them.”

Daisy snorts. “Sure. Your Inhuman friend? The one who turned you into a life of crime?”

“They’d be so proud,” he says, provoking her smile to widen. Then, more seriously, he murmurs. “My Inhuman…”

Friend feels insufficient and inaccurate, even though they definitely are friends. “My Inhuman” is a bit too possessive but sometimes it’s how Coulson feels, and that he is _Daisy’s human_ in exchange.

Her smile is a bit sad - thinking about Coulson’s longing for his late parents, no doubt - and he would like for it not to be even a bit sad, and on a whim (a quiet, tranquil whim that feels natural to him) he presses his lips against that smile, a bit experimentally.

There’s always been this undercurrent of attraction for Daisy in him, which used to make him ashamed. Not these days. Like this new base is not like the Playground but it’s like the Playground in that it’s home, his feelings for Daisy are not what they used to be, but they’re still home.

But that’s a lot to process and he is just happy with a quick, soft, most-chaste kiss for now, with no other objective than to convey how much he delights in knowing her, spending time with her.

He watches her face redden in a flush, but not in a bad way.

“We should get Lola back,” she says, expression bright and her wonderful brain already plotting mischief - Coulson loves watching those moments, he didn’t know how much until Daisy left.

He grins. Daisy is going to get his car back to him. “Yeah?”

“We should steal it back from the ATCU,” she says. “Come on,” she urges, pressing her palm against his shoulder. “It’s your car.”

“Steal it back… sounds nice.”

The woman who turned him to a life of crime indeed.

“Leave it to me,” she says.

He nods.

Daisy twists the fingers still on his shoulder into a fist, bunching his shirt and pulling him to her, slowly. Coulson can tell she’s more comfortable taking the initiative, and he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t mind one bit as Daisy bluffs through her doubts and slides her tongue into Coulson’s mouth.

He lets her decide the rhythm, lets her explore, so he takes the chance to run one hand up her back and grab her gently by the hair and rocking their bodies together as they kiss.

It’s nice, in the same way that keeping her company while she recovers from a mission is nice. In the same way that thinking about how much their parents would have liked Daisy (his dad would probably prefer her to him, wouldn’t he?) had they lived to meet her is nice. It’s just a mere first kiss, in all its glory.

When they break it (amicably, of mutual accord, laughing a bit as their lips leave the other’s) Daisy gazes at his mouth, as if trying to see traces of herself there.

“That felt serious,” Coulson teases her.

She makes a scrunched resolved face.

“It is,” she says, kissing him again. More gently this time, more assured too. That first-kiss tenuous fragility disappears, potential familiarity builds, there’s finally this rush of dizzy joy to the head that makes Coulson want to tell her how much he loves her here and now, no warning. She pulls back and presses her thumb to Coulson’s lips, looking skeptical, like she can’t believe what just happened. Well, he gets that feeling. It’s going to take a few more kisses for him to completely believe it himself. 

“Come on,” he says, his fingers dancing between her shoulderblades, on the spot where the fabric of her top meets her bare skin. “Let’s figure out how to get back our car.”

Coulson wishes the expression she makes when he says “ _our_ car” had less surprise in it, but her delight, he decides he’s going to spend many years making sure she gets that expression a lot.


End file.
